Proper 25, Year B (RCL) sermon

[Psalm 126]
[Jeremiah 31:7-9]

“When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
Then we were like those who dream.
Our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy!”

It had finally happened!

The Jewish Exiles in Babylon had been dreaming about it for more than a generation, and it had finally happened.

Prophets like Jeremiah and Ezekiel had given them oracles of a time when they might return to the Holy Land, a vision of renewal that had given them hope as captives in a strange country: and it had finally happened.

The exile was over. Israel could go home.

Today’s psalm, Psalm 126, is a celebration of the Return from Exile. The Hebrew of the first line has a double-meaning, and can also mean:
“When the Lord restored the captives of Zion,
Then we were like those who dream.”
The Return of the Jewish Exiles, held captive as a marginalized minority in Babylon for over a generation, must have indeed seemed like a dream come true! The visions of hope and restoration they had treasured all throughout their Exile were coming true! It seemed as if the joyous promises found in Isaiah 40-55, in Ezekiel, and in today’s reading from Jeremiah were unfolding before their very eyes! Why, the prophesies seemed to leap off the page (or, more accurately, the scroll) and take flesh! It was as if they had woken from a wonderful dream only to find it was real.

Listen to their wild, shocked joy— the surprised laughter bubbling up out of the psalm. Imagine those exile’s joyful disbelief at their own good fortune—or, I should say, at God’s good blessing. It is the kind of happiness that makes them leap for joy, break out into spontaneous songs of happiness. It makes them, as Jeremiah puts it,
“Sing aloud with gladness for Jacob,
and raise shouts for the chiefs of the nations!”

The Lord has done great things for us, the returning captives cry in the words of the Psalm, and we are glad indeed.

Then, halfway through the psalm, something shifts. Look at what happens in verse 5. Now, in the present, things again seem in need of restoration and renewal. Verse 5 ("Restore our fortunes, O Lord") echoes the first verse ("When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion"). This repetition suggests that, although God has done great things for them, the people again find themselves in need of help and refreshment, and cry out to God. They are saying to God: You did this before, and you can do it again!
1) The Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
2) O Lord, restore our fortunes now.
In effect, they are raising a round of applause for what God has already done, and calling out for an encore. Bravo! they say. We want more!

Both of the Old Testament readings today contrast amazement and wonder with sorrow. Why this juxtaposition of tears with laughter, joy with weeping?

This makes a lot of sense in when you consider of the historical circumstances of the Return. It was the difficult trek of a victimized, displaced people. Perhaps some this crying is tears of joy, at the almost bittersweet sting of feeling hope after having been without hope for so long—sort of like the pain in a limb after it has has fallen asleep, when the blood returns. But perhaps also, these are tears of real sadness. This great crowd is still reeling from the experience of the humiliation of exile. This isn’t an army of able-bodied strong young men; it is a “great company,” among their number the blind and those in labor, those who are weak, or old, or vulnerable, the unlikely, the struggling.

Returning to the promised land,
all will feel the sting of uncertainty:
After being marginal, powerless, an exiled minority in a strange land,
they will have to stand on their own two feet.
Can they do it?
Will they make it?

Once the exiled Jews returned to Jerusalem, there were other difficulties. The city walls were rubble, God’s Temple had been razed to the ground, and much of the city lay in ruins. The Biblical books of Ezra and Nehemiah tell the story of the hard times those returning faced: struggles to rebuild what had been destroyed, to struggles recapture something of their past, and redefine their identity to take into the new realities.

Return, renewal, and rebirth are hard. The exuberant exhilaration of the initial experience of return may fade into a realization that things are still not all perfect, that there is still unanswered suffering and difficulty. Perhaps the optimistic sensation of being swept along effortlessly towards a perfect future is fading, slowly becoming replaced by a sense of doubt as the ruins do not sit up and rebuild themselves, as the economy takes more time than anticipated recovering, as the fields continue to require hard work and be subject to the same droughts and vicissitudes as all ancient agriculture.

But past experience of God's power fuels the present hope of God's renewal. As the people were formerly swept away with a dream-like sense of wonder that caused spontaneous laughter to well up in their mouths, they pray that God would again send a torrent of life-giving water into their lives. They pray,
“Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
Like the watercourses of the Negeb.”
The stream-beds of the Negeb are, like the ruts and arroyos in Santa Fe where I went to college, usually dry, dusty cuts in the ground. However, the seasonal rains can be transform these channels of dust into raging, rushing torrents. The dryness of the present is not the last word; God's aid can gush into the watercourses of our lives and sweep us off our feet again, as it has done in the past. Today's tears yield to future joys.

So, Psalmist looks honestly into the face of today's hardships. There are tears to be sown today, perhaps, or a sense dryness, or weeping at our labor. To admit that is not to somehow betray the renewal that God has already worked among us, or be untrue to it, or erase it. To hold up today's difficulties honestly next to the memory of God's past help is to invite God's further help. It is to face today honestly and with hope. As the returning Exiles experienced their restoration as a mixed blessing, with hardship as well as joy, the Psalm invites us to face our lives honestly, to lift up whatever we really feel before God: laughter and Songs of Joy when we are joyful, cries of supplication when are in need. The Psalm teaches us to applaud the wonderful, joyful renewal God has worked in our lives already, and to cry for a repeat performance, an encore, when we are in need.

You may have noticed I’ve shifted to the present tense.
This is not entirely accidental.

Here at St. John’s, I’ve caught a glimpse of the kind of joy the Psalm addresses, something like the joy of the Return after Exile. In the past few years, this parish has grown back from an average Sunday attendance of twelve to what we see today. Sometimes, there is an almost physical sense of energy and excitement in the air, a sense that God is doing things here, that almost makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck. St. John’s seems to be going somewhere, doing something, growing in discipleship and mission. It seems to be redefining itself, attempting to respect its past and the heritage of its traditions while asking how it might reach out to this neighborhood in new ways. New things are being tried. New leaders are taking on new roles. What an amazing thing! From a relative newcomer’s point of view, I have to say that I am amazed at the life and vitality I’ve seen flowing here, like waters turning a dry creekbed in dusty Santa Fe into a torrent.

I want to share with you what I’ve heard from others. As I attend other Episcopal functions around the Diocese, others are saying about St. John’s what the nations say in the psalm: “The Lord has done great things for them.”

However, there are struggles and difficulties in the life of any growing parish as well. Not every new thing that we try may work, or may not reap a harvest we can see right away. This is fine—as Jesus teaches us, we merely plant the seeds, and God gives the growth—but it may be hard on us. We sometimes experience sorrow over our own and each others’ setbacks. Some of us may struggle with experience of being unemployed. Some of us have family members who are gravely ill, or struggle with our own illnesses.

The gift that this week’s Psalm, and Jeremiah reading give us, is the honesty that there can still be difficulty and pain in the midst of blessing—and that we are not being unfaithful to face that. Admitting our own tears, owning up to our own need or doubt at times, does not mean that we are unaware of how God has led us thus far. It does not mean we do not have confidence in where our Lord is leading us. In fact, as Psalm 26 teaches, it is precisely because God has restored our fortunes in the past that we can boldly applaud him and cheer for a repeat performance, a standing ovation to our Lord.

The Lord has done great things for us,
And we say: O Lord: Bravo! Encore!